


Made of Love

by Sombraline



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Captive Prince Week 2017, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, kings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sombraline/pseuds/Sombraline
Summary: Ten years of reign. They seem to never run out of traditions to remake their own.





	Made of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This time, it's nothing but fluff. Written for day 3 of Captive Prince Week -"Kings"
> 
> I'm being awfully productive at this. Maybe I should write during my lunch breaks more often.
> 
> Title is taken from Steven Universe, of course.

Being the king of Akielos was no easy task. The crown of laurels and the name of Exhalted were heavy burdens and heavier privileges.

Damen had grown his whole life knowing he would one day be the man above all men, the ruler of mighty armies, the commander for all people. To be worthy of the ones before him was to be extraordinary. He would have to be worthy of beings of legend, strong and noble and flawless. He would have to protect his land, to take care of his people, to be weary of the neighboring realms. Maybe he would have to face wars, or epidemics, or hunger, and be strong and take decisions. Being the king was to be more than human.

He had always been looking forward to taking the throne, yet he had also always been a little, secretely, apprehensive. He would never have told his father or his brother or Nikandros as much. Jokaste had been the only one to know that, deep in his heart, he was afraid that he was just not a man capable of so much.

Then he had been made a slave. Away from the golden sun and white columns of home, he had been made nothing. Nobody to watch him, nobody to admire or judge him. Just himself, and an angry master, and slaves he wanted to protect. 

He had never realised what sort of royal parallel there was in what had been his life in Vere, fighting enemies and protecting his people.

But now, now he was king. Now he wore the scarlet cape of his father and he pinned it on his chiton every morning with a lionhead pin. And now he had a heavy bracelet at his arm, and he was more confident than ever he had been. It was so much easier, knowing what sort of king he wanted to be, when he had discovered what sort of man he was.

Now, he realised, it was not quite the same for Laurent.

His lover's kingdom was different from Akielos, in this as in everything else. Kings and Queens were beautiful, educated and witty. Damen's father had valued strenght and courage and honesty. Laurent's had valued cleverness, strategy and appearances. 

Both ideas of power were valuable. It had been their understanding of each other's that had brought them this far, and it was it that would keep the new Artesian Empire strong. Laurent welcomed diplomats and issued biting warnings in such a way that the other side could only thank him for his kindness. Damen spoke at the parades and greeted people during days of celebration, leaving people with their heart warmed and humbled. And together, they were... perfect. They had rewritten every piece of their culture to make it fit their reign.

Until, well, this. 

“I thought that Akielon Kings had to be dead to appear on these walls,” Laurent said.

“Common misconception. It has to be ten years of their reign,” Damen explained. “A lot of kings do not live this long.”

“Charming,” Laurent murmured. He advanced to stroke carefully a crevisse in the carved figure of an ancient queen. “So what is the problem? You will appear next to your father.” 

In Vere, leaders were revered, feared, and judged, all of those things simultaneously. That alone would be enough to make one wary of the burden of the throne. But Laurent, as often, was not ordinary enough for that to be the only thing tense about his realm. 

Laurent had never been meant for the throne. He had been a little boy meant to become surely an advisor, a councillor, maybe a diplomat. And he would have been great at that. Damen had caught himself sometimes wondering about how things could have been, if Auguste had been king, and Damen had met him and his little brother formally. Laurent would have been sharp, taunting, protective of his brother, charming. 

But things had taken another turn. Laurent had had to take the throne. He had had no choice but to fight for it, sacrificing the innocence of youth in having to be a conqueror before he was a king, against family and tormentor no less. Laurent was king, but he had never wanted to be.

Sometimes, Damen wondered, and he would never say it out loud, about their relationship. He wondered if Laurent was relieved that he did not have to be king alone. Apart from their love, there was relief and support in what they had.

But then, there were also moments like these.

“Things have changed, Laurent,” he said. He stood in front of the carved figure of his father. Ten years since they had come here to negociate with a serpent. “I'm not a king of Akielos like they were. This hall was not meant for something like us.”

“Ah.” Laurent said nothing for a moment. Damen knew when his husband was confused, so he waited until he spoke. “Will they not accept you on this wall because of us? Surely those who would rebel do not need this sort of provocation to do so.”

“It's not what I mean,” Damen said. “I mean that I am a king of the new Artesian Empire, not Akielos. Either this temple must evolve, or it is obsolete.” 

Laurent looked at him with his brows furrowed. Then his eyes lit up with understanding and he made a small 'oh'. He had an ungarded expression of lovely surprise. 

“I've been thinking of it for months now and I am still undecided, Laurent. Either the two of us will follow my father on this wall, as the first two kings of the empire, or we should begin something else.” 

“You ask me what I think of it?”

“Yes.”

Laurent smiled, a tiny and discreet smile. Clearly he understood all that Damen meant. That made Damen smile in return.

“This place is ancient and symbolic. It cannot be discarded. Let the records know why there are two kings here, and face the rebellious ones.”

“That sounds wise,” Damen accepted, and he leaned down for a kiss. 

He loved the Kingdom they made for themselves. He loved that they were in this together, strong in their different ways and made of love. 

Perhaps a kiss would be too daring, but he decided that they would be depicted holding hands, if nothing else. Let the centuries remember the two kings they were.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated! =)


End file.
